Only one survived. It was past 11 at night, and I was in bed, firm in my resolve to sleep early to ease my rising time of 4:30 am. The dogs kept on barking, and as I tossed and turned, I thought I heard an unusual sound, but then dismissed it as my mind playing tricks. Then again, and again, it was there: a faint whine. In sheer panic, I leapt out of bed, out of the room, frantically calling out to my daughters. I thought I heard a pup crying. It was a cold winter night and as my daughter looked around the garden, she found him: alone in the cold. As I wrapped him in a warm shawl, I prayed fervently to God for his life. It was truly a miracle that he had not died in spite of lying exposed in the cold after birth. I named him Mauju.
Mauju was the most beautiful pup out of all the litters we had over the years; we were excited and happy, and prayed for his health and life constantly. One day, my youngest, an aspiring veterinarian since she was two years old, announced that Mauju was blind. And indeed as the days passed by, we learnt that our beloved miracle baby, Mauju, was indeed blind.
Those who have interacted with or raised a ‘special person’ would know that it is indeed a challenge and a privilege at the same time. Having been a part of my deaf brother’s life since his birth, I have witnessed first-hand what hurdles and hindrances, he and we as a family have had to encounter. While Waris is no different from other ‘normal’ individuals, he has needs and requirements that others do not; he is more dependent on his vision to compensate for the hearing loss. While he wears a hearing aid, it helps him more if the other person looks at him during communication to facilitate lip reading, and thus, he touches him to gain his attention. Likewise, people suffering from vision loss are more reliant on their hearing and sense of touch and smell. There is no concept of integration of special people in society. No one thinks on those lines when formulating policies, designing basic projects and amenities. Maybe it is too much work? There are individual organisations that cater to special people. When I was in college, we used to visit the school for the blind. It was amazing to see the visually impaired children sing and play music, jostle and banter with each other. Likewise at the school for the deaf, the children would communicate in sign language and were for all intents and purposes ‘normal’ children, even if society did not treat them that way.
Mauju, our visually impaired pup, is like all puppies at his age. He is excitable, full of energy, loves to be tickled, stroked and carried around, and has a voracious appetite. When we learnt of Mauju’s handicap, there was a moment of fleeting sadness but then there was a realisation that there had to be a purpose behind this. My initial thoughts were how we would protect him — from himself, other dogs and his environment. He had to be taught, so the vet-to-be and I started to read up on how to raise a visually-impaired puppy, and we learnt that it was not all that different from raising normal ones apart from the safety concerns. As is with visually impaired persons, for Mauju we cannot change the furniture layout. He makes a mental map of his surroundings and where the objects and obstacles are. Watching him navigate the terrace, where the vet and I regularly chaperone and play with him, we saw him bump into walls and chairs, but after a couple of days, we were amazed to see Mauju running, full blast, without hitting anything. Of course this changes if we move anything. He can tell where his food is by listening to the sound made by the steel bowl and can navigate straight towards it. One day, without making the slightest sound, I placed his bowl on a wall. Mauju was playing at the time. He stopped dead in his tracks, raised his nose towards the sky and went and sat next to the wall with the food, his face turned upwards!
One of my father’s teachers at the Government College, Lahore was the general secretary of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA). Sometimes an inspector for the SPCA would come into the class to get a ticket signed, mostly to fine tonga owners. A visit to the SPCA Lahore this week revealed that though functioning, it is caught up in bureaucratic hurdles. With no independent budget, severe lack of funds, staff and medicines, catering mainly to equines who are lame, wounded or subjected to overloading. There is no provision for pets who are victims of human cruelty. Many a times, we have seen dogs owned by some influential family brought to the neighbouring ‘dog hospital’ in brutally wounded condition, with chunks of flesh missing, deep gashes, covered in blood. These dogs are used for dog fights and boar hunting. It is indeed a heartless soul who can listen to their agonising yelps without flinching, but what does one call people who indulge in such cruel sports? Years ago, the Lahore Municipal Corporation, in an effort to get rid of a sizeable stray dog population, announced a Rs 20 reward to anyone who kills one and presents its tail as proof. The callousness and barbarism of our people became evident as they started chopping off tails of living dogs, leaving them to die, bleeding and writhing in pain.
People often argue that in a country where human life has no value, how can one advocate against animal cruelty? Maybe the reason why human life has no value lies in the fact that we have no respect for life — any life — and are oblivious to pain, unless it is ours. Children sprinkle salt on earthworms, raid birds’ nests to rob and torture the young, pelt stones at dogs and cats, adults ruthlessly whip donkeys, horses and mules, load dozens of people on single animal drawn carts, tie up pets on short chains — without regard for the sun in the summer and wind in the winter — eat first without thinking once whether the pet has been fed or had water, subject cows to torture in order to increase milk production, crush ants and mutilate rats, and yet call themselves ‘humane’.
In a society where any sort of a handicap is looked down upon, where the realisation of persons with special needs is confined to ‘celebrating’ an international day once a year, where amenities and infrastructures are built for normal people, where slang words, which seem downright obscene, are used to describe various physical and mental impairments, where most of us do not have 10 minutes in an entire day for a person with special needs, writing an article on a visually-impaired puppy may be considered a waste of precious newspaper space. Human life will have value only if we respect life and diversity. Children need to see their parents respect life — all life — before they can be expected to do the same. They need to know that the things they take for granted, someone else is praying for those. They need to know ‘special needs’ is not just an annual day: it is a commitment. Raising Mauju is one such commitment.
The writer is an advocate of the High Court